


succumb to a permanence

by yunmin



Category: Bones (TV), Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Drug Addiction, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season/Series 03, gormogon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both see dead bodies when they close their eyes. One is desperate to try and feel again. The other craves a drug to try and numb the pain. Both have murder cases to solve. (Or, Zack and Reid meet at a support group meeting and despite all the challenges they face, find themselves slowly falling together.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	succumb to a permanence

**Author's Note:**

> This came a little out of nowhere, then proceeded to demand that I finish it (which was not a chore because I love these two.) This is a s3 fic so be warned that Zack's PTSD and Reid's addiction and all that goes with it are discussed in this fic. The title is from CHVRCHES [Science/Visions](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sg3yy-NmMjA) (which along with Charlotte Martin's [Volcano](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CfQezo9dimw) pretty much makes up the soundtrack for this fic.) As always if you wish to shriek at/with me about these two you can find me on [tumblr.](http://drinkupthesunrise.tumblr.com)
> 
> And lastly, to [maryfic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/maryfic/pseuds/maryfic), who not only beta-ed this thing, but has been great in general reassuring me I am on the right track with these guys. Lots of love to you my dear.

Just because Reid's favourite anonymous meeting is the Beltway Clean Cops, doesn't mean it's the only one he attends. He isn't in town reliably enough; the cravings don't always conveniently hit on nights when the NA runs.

The one he's ended up hitting tonight isn't really an anonymous meeting, more a general support group run on similar lines. There's a strong focus on PTSD and trauma, which is what Reid is feeling right now. Not craving for the Dilaudid, strictly speaking, but his brain is overwhelmed with images of dead kids that he can't shake.

He doesn't speak; he rarely speaks even down at the Beltway. It's difficult to know what to say. No one's issues can be packaged up nicely into a five minute speech, but Reid has more difficulty than some. The voices are enough, knowing that if he wanted to talk he could.

He recognised the young man with the brown hair and wide eyes from the moment he walked in, but it's not until he begins to speak that Reid puts it together.

"I'm still there," he says. He wrings his hands and continues. "I think I still should be there. I don't know what I'm doing here."

Reid's only heard Zachary Addy speak once, technically. He's read more of his papers, and knows of a half dozen conferences where they could have crossed paths, but they've never met. It's a waste, Reid thinks.

He hadn't been aware that he'd gone to Iraq, though. Zack's avoiding most of the words. There's so much more to this story than what he's telling. Reid can see it in the way he breathes, breaks, between the sentences.

When the meeting winds down, Zack heads for the refreshment table. Reid follows. Most of the other attendees are more concerned with leaving as quickly as possible, so they are the only two who remain. Aside from the leader, who is busy stacking chairs.

Zack pours sugar into his coffee with a strange degree of precision, and then stirs the coffee more times strictly necessary, counting the revolutions the spoon makes. A soft hey from Reid brings him out of his focus.

Zack's brow is furrowed as he responds. "Hello." There's a query in there. He looks Reid up and down. "You didn't speak." It's not a question.

"It's complicated," Reid says. He doesn't have a problem explaining, but he'd rather give the option. He eyes the coffee Zack has in hand. "Are you sure that's the best idea?"

Zack clutches the cup tighter, almost protective. "Yes." It's a definitive statement.

Reid shrugs. It's not like he's been any better. Hotch had cut him off this afternoon, after four cups. He'd had another one before coming to the meeting, but he knew better to push his luck with more caffeine now. "What are you avoiding?"

Zack bites his lip, slanting his head. Reid has a sudden urge to reach out which he suppresses. "Everything," Zack answers.

"That's understandable," Reid says.

Zack's mouth purses. "Is it?" he questions. Reid nods. "What are you hiding from?"

Reid is momentarily surprised, but pulls it into a smile. "As I said, it's complicated, but I suppose the same as you. A bit of everything."

Zack considers this a moment; another cock of the head. "Are you going to explain why it's complicated?"

"Do you fancy avoiding the world with me?" Reid asks. It's a little bold, but Zack doesn't seem to mind.

-x-

When Reid mentioned avoiding the world, he imagined walking around DC and maybe ending up discussing structural mechanics on a rooftop at three in the morning.

Instead, he's pressed against the wall, with Zack's lips on his, tongue licking furiously into his mouth. Not that it's an unwelcome state of affairs, just unexpected.

Zack's clumsy, but determined. Not that Reid has any right to criticise. The clash of teeth just reminds him that he's alive, of all the world's imperfections. Zack's hands are fisted in the front of Reid's shirt. Reid had discarded his blazer only moments before Zack had pushed him against his apartment wall.

One of Reid's hands is low on Zack's back, thumb hooked into a belt loop. It would be more accurate to state that Reid had his hand on Zack's ass. The other curls around the back of Zack's neck, pulling him close.

Reid nips at Zack's lower lip, eliciting a gasp. Reid uses the momentary loss of concentration on Zack's part to switch their positions, thrusting Zack against the wall, a leg between Zack's thighs. He licks a stripe along Zack's jaw, bites at the earlobe before descending, sucking at his pulse point. Zack moans, tilts his head upward to allow Reid better access.

Zack smells of harsh disinfectant, a chemical burn; not surprising given that he works in a lab. But there's something fresh and clear under that, a shampoo that might be lime. He focuses on sucking a bruise into the juncture of Zack's neck, tangible proof that this happened.

Another moan from Zack, and Reid finds himself dragged up into a bruising kiss, as Zack's hands scramble to undo the buttons on Reid's shirt. The sweetness of the earlier coffee is evident as Reid sweeps his tongue into Zack's mouth, wet and fierce. Zack's fingers pull at the bottom of Reid's shirt, close to the waistband. He's having difficulties due to the lack of space between them, but succeeds; he takes his time sliding the shirt from Reid's shoulders.

It drops to the floor with a soft thud. Zack's hands curl around Reid's waist, fingers pushing downwards into the bone of his hip. Reid can feel him hard against him. His hands tug at Zack's tee; it joins the shirt on the floor. Reid presses a series of quick kisses to Zack's collarbone, then leans back to take him in.

He's flushed, swollen red lips and wide dark eyes. The bruise Reid sucked into his neck stands out on pale skin. His fingers are resting on Reid's waistband, dancing on the edge.

Reid pulls him towards the bedroom. Zack's eager, responsive, driven. Reid focuses on taking Zack apart so thoroughly he won't notice the track marks on Reid's elbow – he's not yet had to explain them to anyone and he isn't sure this is where he wants to start.

Both of them are greedy, running hands over as much skin as they can, reassuring the other that in this moment, at least, they are wanted and needed. They clutch and cling, eyes screwed shut in pleasure; the only light is the gleam of the city through the window.

Spent, they curl themselves into the sheets and each other. For two people so used to sleeping alone, it amazes them how easily they sleep with the weight of another body at their side.

-x-

Reid's woken by both the light of the emerging DC morning and his phone going off. Zack's no longer in his bed. As he pads through the apartment, it becomes clear that he's left. His discarded clothing has gone from the floor, though Reid's remains as evidence of the previous night's activities.

He puts the coffee maker on before jumping in the shower. He's covered in marks; he knows Zack is too. It's further evidence of just being alive, that he doesn't have to rely on drugs to get high. Not that he intends to make hook ups and one night stands a thing; he'll leave that to Morgan.

(Though, really, he suspects it's Prentiss who has a thing for the anonymous desperation that was last night.)

The others notice, of course, though his shirt collar hides the worst of it. He endures teasing from the girls, but avoids Morgan. He hasn't forgotten the comment of "I hope it was a she," and wonders if Morgan realises the casual homophobia of his words.

Hotch raises an eyebrow when he catches sight of Reid's neck. It's not judgement – more of a question as to whether Reid's alright. Reid nods back and Hotch is satisfied. He calls Morgan up for something or other. Reid doesn't know, but he appreciates the gesture.

It's not like he has much time to think about what's going on between him and Zack, as it's not long before they get called out on another case.

-x-

Hodgins is prepared to make a jab about Zack not coming home last night when he walks in the kitchen door for breakfast that morning, but wasn't quite expecting what he sees.

Because it's quite clear what Zack was up to. It's not a walk of shame, as Zack's managed to get back to his apartment for a change of clothes, but there are marks up his neck which leave little to the imagination.

"Whoa," Hodgins exclaims. "What did you get into last night? Or I suppose the more pertinent question is who?"

Zack ignores him, and goes straight to the coffee maker. There are bags under his eyes which are practically ever present these days.

Angela stumbles in. Zack reaches for another mug and fills it up, still not speaking. Angela's eyes widen when she sees Zack, and she raises an eyebrow at Hodgins, who simply shrugs.

"Sweetie _—_ " Angela starts. Zack thrusts the coffee mug at her, and narrows his eyes.

"We have got a case, by the way," Hodgins decides to mention.

"I know," Zack answers.

"And you came back here?" Hodgins is exclamatory. He shakes his head. "I don't know if that's progress or not," he mutters under his breath.

When they get to the lab, Booth and Cam exchange glances, and both decide not to comment. Brennan seems oblivious, and no one wants to draw attention to it.

Zack, on his own in the bone room when Brennan goes back into the field to interview a witness, reflects on the events of last night. It had been Cam who'd slipped him the leaflet about a support group she'd found. He hadn't intended to go, but he'd found himself there.

He's not sure it helped, talking about it. He doesn't feel any worse for doing it, though.

But that's not the pressing issue. Spencer is. Spencer, the beautiful man who'd approached him and wanted to escape just as much as Zack did. Who Zack, in a rare moment of courage, had pushed against the wall of Spencer's apartment. Zack shudders as he remembers the feel of Spencer against him.

He thinks, as he examines the poorly fused coronal suture of the skull, that he'd like to see Spencer again. But he doesn't have any contact details, not even a full name. He knows where Spencer's apartment is, but he's sure Hodgins would consider staking the place out creepy. And Angela could probably find him, but she'll ask why.

Zack's not sure he wants to explain the why.

He could go back to the support group. It's an incentive, at least. Not a good one, as he knows it's the first time Spencer was there that night as well. He sighs, and goes back to his work, cataloguing injuries to the bones, resigning himself to not seeing Spencer again.

-x-

And so Zack forgets Spencer. Or tries to. There's the entire Gormogon vault to unravel after all. And then Gormogon drops another dead body in their laps.

Only this time they have Dr. Sweets spouting nonsense about profiling and significance. When he leaves, Hodgins looks to Cam and goes, "You can't tell me we're going to take his word for any of it?"

"I do think we could do with a second opinion." Cam makes a call there and then. They don't know who it is on the end of the line, but Angela overhears something about sending pretty boy down to deal with it.

They find the second skeleton before Cam's mysterious expert arrives. Zack's so busy analysing the bones he doesn't notice him walk in.

It's Angela's "oh, he is pretty," that draws him out of it. He looks up, to see a man with golden brown hair and features Zack is intimately acquainted with standing at the front of the lab.

"Spencer?" Zack says, before he can stop himself. He peels the gloves off his hands and descends, leaving Angela and Hodgins behind him - both of whom are now looking at each other with significant confusion.

"Spencer," Zack repeats, now within earshot. "What are you doing here?"

"Camille Saroyan called," Spencer explains. "She wanted a consult on the Gormogon case, and I figured I might as well come down and look at the evidence in person."

"Dr. Reid." Cam sweeps in in that moment. "I see you've already made Dr. Addy's acquaintance."

Cam continues talking, but Zack doesn't listen. He knows of Dr. Spencer Reid, if only in a distant sense. He's brilliant. And well, Zack knows that Spencer was a little brilliant, but this - this is different.

Cam's leading Spencer away before Zack has a chance to come to his senses. He then realises that Spencer didn't seem surprised to see Zack here, at the Jeffersonian. He tries not to think about the wider implications of that.

Up on the platform, Angela and Hodgins remain confused.

"Who was that?" Hodgins asks. "And how on earth does Zack know him?"

Angela ponders for a moment. "Remember when Zack came back having clearly spent the night with someone?"

Hodgins eyes go wide. "You don't think _—_ "

"That could be him? I think so."

"That guy?" Hodgins shakes his head. "He's got to be out of Zack's league."

"Maybe." Angela directs Hodgins gaze to Zack. "But doesn't Zack look like he's suddenly had a major revelation?"

Zack hasn't moved since he first greeted Spencer. Hodgins has to admit, Angela may be onto something.

-x-

Reid leaves Angela's office shaking his head. He knows that the Jeffersonian case closure rate is exceptionally high, but he thinks they're out of their depth on this one. Dr. Sweets, however gifted, is in need of some serious field experience and a reality check. He's not an agent, merely a consultant. He doesn't know what he's doing.

It doesn't take long to work out where Zack is. And Reid wants to check out the Gormogon vault anyway. It's not difficult to make up an excuse to go down there.

Zack's sorting through various artefacts and doesn't notice Reid descending the stairs. Reid makes his way over, coming up behind him. "Hey," he says.

Zack takes a moment to drop what he is doing. He regards Reid with narrowed eyes. "Hello."

The air is thick with tension; it bristles with it. Neither of them know quite what to say to each other.

"Did you know who I was?" Zack asks.

"Yes." Reid decides there is no point lying. "Not from the moment you walked in, but when you started speaking. I heard you at a conference once."

It takes Zack a moment to absorb this. "So you knew my name, where I worked, what I do?"

"I'm sorry."

Zack furrows his brow. He doesn't understand why Spencer is apologising. He takes a moment and realises that his question came out more accusatory than he intended.

"Nothing I told you was a lie, I just _—_ " Reid breaks off. "I have a tendency to lie by omission. It's the only way I know how. It is complicated."

"I've read your papers too," Zack says.

Reid looks up.

"I didn't know when we slept together, but when Cam mentioned your full name, I realised. I referenced your paper on the behaviour of cable-stayed bridges in my dissertation."

Reid smiles. "It's been a while since I wrote that." He'd been nineteen, enduring a minor fascination.

"You haven't published anything in a while," Zack notes.

"I have other priorities these days," Reid says.

"Is that why Cam called you?" Zack asks. He's still a little confused as to how Spencer ended up here.

"She called my partner, Derek Morgan, actually," Reid replies. "I think they know each other. We work for the Behavioural Analysis Unit at the FBI. Morgan fobbed it off on me, saying that going through dusty old artefacts was more my thing."

"Everyone else thinks it's creepy down here," Zack says.

"The atmosphere isn't welcoming," Reid says. "But I think it's fascinating."

-x-

"Cam, who the hell did you call in?" Angela asks.

Not just because she's interested in who Zack may or may not be sleeping with. Which she is. But he also took all the evidence they have in the Gormogon case so far and turned it into something they could actually use.

"Dr. Spencer Reid. He's a supervisory special agent attached to the Behavioural Analysis Unit," Cam responds.

Hodgins wonders. "Medical or _—_ "

"PhD?" Cam finishes for him. "He's got three of them, I believe."

"Damn. How old is this kid?"

"Twenty-six." Cam doesn't seem impressed with this line of questioning.

"Yep," Hodgins nods. "Definitely out of Zack's league."

-x-

It gets to nine o'clock before they even notice the time. And they only notice because Reid gets a text from JJ, telling him he's needed back at the BAU.

He apologises profusely to Zack as he leaves. The lab is empty; Zack supposes that everyone else has gone home. After all, it is rather late. Reid has to retrieve a couple of files from Cam's office first, jamming them in his messenger bag.

"Are you sure you'll be alright here?" Reid asks. "Morgan's swinging by to pick me up, I'm sure I could get him to give you a ride."

"I have some more work to finish," Zack says. Which is true as far as there is work, but it doesn't need to be done tonight. It'll hardly be the first time he's slept over in the Lab.

"Okay." Reid sounds doubtful but doesn't press the issue. He fishes a business card out of his pocket. "Have this."

Zack takes it, flipping the cardstock over in his fingers. Digits of a telephone number and an email address.

"So I can call you?" Zack asks, desperately hoping that that is what Spencer is insinuating. "Because that's what Hodgins says you do after sexual encounters, only I didn't have your number last time."

Reid smiles. His eyes crinkle, his shoulders shake with the small laugh he emits. "That's on me. I should have told you something, at least my name. That night - it's not something I make a habit of."

Zack's face falls. It's minute, but Reid is a profiler.

"That's not what I meant." Reid is quick to clarify. He realises he's making a complete hash of this - of his entire relationship with Zack. "Call me. Please. I'd like to see you when we're both not trying to solve a murder case. Not that this hasn't been fun. Because it has. Just _—_ "

Reid looks at Zack. There's no need to be this nervous. Zack isn't radiantly beautiful under the harsh blue light of the lab or anything. He doesn't take Reid's breath away. But there's something.

His phone buzzes. It'll be Morgan, pulling up outside the Jeffersonian. "I've got to go." And then he makes an impulsive decision. He leans in and kisses Zack, just briefly, before he goes.

He leaves Zack dazed. Zack can't really believe that any of this is happening.

-x-

He does call. Spencer's on a case so they only manage a brief conversation, but it leaves Zack feeling lighter than he has since he came back from Iraq. Everyone notices the change in his mood, and the teasing is worse now that they think they know who's responsible. It's good natured though. Zack can hardly fault them for it.

Spencer calls him back late at night, when Zack is cataloguing bodies in limbo. He sounds weary, but not shattered, which is a good thing. He asks if Zack wants to come over, mentions something about take-out, which reminds Zack that he hasn't eaten anything since Angela forced some brunch into him. Spencer says he'll call in an order at the local place if Zack'll pick it up.

He knocks on Spencer's apartment door clutching the food. Spencer looks relieved to see him. They settle on the couch. Spencer ends up retrieving a fork from the kitchen so he can eat the chinese. Zack remembers the days he'd struggled, but Angela hadn't stood for it for long.

When they finish, Spencer cleans up, puts the food the haven't eaten in the fridge. Zack takes the chance to have a closer look at Spencer's apartment, which he'd seen very little of on his previous visit.

Spencer finds him examining the bookshelves. He doesn't say anything, but Zack turns around and catches him staring. It's Zack who looks guilty though. "It's late," he says. "I should be going."

"Don't," Spencer blurts. "I mean." He takes a moment to think about what he does mean. "It's late, yes. But you don't have to go. I'm not due in 'til ten tomorrow. You could stay?"

Zack considers it for a moment. It's not like there was anything urgent that needed doing at the lab. Hodgins and Angela had date night so were unlikely to wonder where on earth he was. And the prospect of spending another night in Spencer's arms is appealing to say the least.

"Okay."

-x-

Spencer lends Zack a shirt to sleep in. He picks out a long sleeved top himself. He already thinks that someday he might tell Zack everything, but not now.

There's an initial effort to keep to individual sides of the bed, but it doesn't last long before they are drifting towards each other. It's easier to sleep with the line of a warm body by one's side.

At least, until Spencer is awoken by Zack screaming, sheets soaked with sweat. He rolls over, reaching a hand out to shake Zack. He calls his name, attempting to rouse him. Zack continues to shudder, hands flailing out. One of them nearly hits Spencer and Spencer grabs it, holding tighter than he'd like.

"Zack, you have to wake up." Zack's still fighting him. "Zack, it's alright, You're safe. You aren't there anymore."

Still nothing.

Spencer's wary of raising his voice, but he's running out of options. "Zack," he says, a little louder.

Zack's eyes open. He flings himself bolt upright. He looks around, confused. He can't place where he is. "It's okay. You're at my apartment. You remember who I am, right, Zack?" Spencer says behind him.

Zack nods.

"I'm going to touch you now, is that alright?"

Zack nods again. Spencer folds Zack into his arms. Zack buries his head into the crook of Spencer's neck. Spencer can feel the tears flowing hot and wet, but doesn't say anything, just holds Zack close.

The tears stop in time. Zack's breathing slows back to a manageable level. He stops clutching quite so tight.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Spencer asks.

"Not really," Zack replies. He remains tangled up in Spencer's arms. When he speaks again, he says, "Are you ever going to tell me why it's complicated?"

"Yes," Spencer says. "But I don't think now is the time for it."

"Why not?" Zack's lips brush against Spencer's neck as he asks the question, and Spencer can't help the shudder that goes down his spine. Zack presses an open mouthed kiss on his pulse point. "I don't want to go back to sleep. I'm not sure I could." Zack licks up Spencer's jawline.

"How many hours of sleep are you getting?" Spencer asks. It's difficult to concentrate with Zack mouthing at his neck.

"Enough," Zack says. Spencer distrusts Zack's ability to make a rational judgement on the hours of sleep he requires.

Zack looks at Reid. His eyes are dark. He leans forward and places a chaste kiss on Spencer's lips. His hand curls in Spencer's shirt, and he kisses again, sweeter and wetter. Spencer's hands cup the sides of Zack's face, pulling him in as he slides his tongue into Zack's mouth.

It's not fierce, not passion like the first night. It's seeking comfort from the other, and finding someone willing to reciprocate. Easy to lose oneself in it, in the feel of another mouth under one's own, a hand tucked into loose curl on the back of a neck, the emanating warmth of a human body.

"Dead children," Spencer says when they part. "That's what I see when I close my eyes."

-x-

Spencer tells Zack about Owen Savage and Ryan Philipps. Zack tells him about the burnt bodies which haunt his dreams.

Neither of them tells each other everything. But it's a start.

It's easier to face the horrors at work when they have someone who understands. Who knows that the pressure is on to make a break in the case. That you have to keep going, despite everything, because if you don't a murderer goes free, another victim dies. To have other people's lives reliant on your ability to hold it together, and how tenuous your grip on that sanity is.

They learn how to centre themselves with the other. To find the truth of the world, a reality, in the physicality of another's body. When Zack is numb, Spencer can make him feel again. And that when Spencer feels too much, Zack can quell that raging pain inside.

It's codependent and not entirely healthy, but it's a step up from relying on the Dilaudid to numb the pain.

-x-

It doesn't take long for Zack to find out about the Dilaudid.

Spencer doesn't even know how to begin broaching the subject. He's talked about bad cases, talked about being held hostage - but avoided talking about Hankel. He'd told Zack about the incident on the train in Texas, so when he slips up and talks about being held, Zack thinks it's about that.

Zack realises quickly that the stories don't match up, but doesn't probe. Not until they're in bed together and he sees the track marks on Spencer's elbow. He traces his fingers down them.

"Spencer?"

Spencer looks at Zack. His face is undecipherable. "It's _—_ "

"Don't you dare say it's complicated." Zack retracts his fingers, shifts away from Spencer. "I've told you about my demons."

"Zack," Spencer starts. He leans in, wraps his fingers around Zack's wrist. "I _—_ " He falters again.

Zack snatches his wrist back. "I know what they are," he says. "You can't lie to me about what they are, Spencer."

"I know." Spencer resigns himself, pulling himself up on one side of the bed.

"I can't promise to understand why. I don't do why. Some days I'm not even sure I do how anymore. But I'll listen."

"I'm clean," Spencer says. "I've got my one year chip. I see my sponsor regularly."

"But that doesn't mean you're okay." Zack comes to a realisation as the words tumble out of his mouth. "The first night we met, you were craving."

It's in that moment that Spencer realises he's severely underestimated Zack's perceptiveness. "Yes."

"You used me to stop it."

"Yes," Spencer admits.

Zack steps off the bed. Paces to the window. Tenses his hands as he considers the information. "I was using you too."

Zack's shoulders drop, he relaxes. Spencer slides off the bed and approaches him. "It was mutual." He reaches a hand out to touch Zack's arm. Zack leans into the touch. Spencer slips fully behind Zack and wraps his arms around him, resting his head on Zack's shoulder.

Zack reclines into Spencer. They stay there, feeling each other breathe.

"Where do we go from here?" Zack asks.

"I'll tell you," Spencer says. "No more secrets."

-x-

And that's how Zack learns about the Dilaudid. Spencer tells him more than he's ever told anyone. The team knows a lot of it; they watched most of it, but uttering the words aloud is different. Talking about the battle with the addiction afterwards. He's only just started speaking about that with John. The team don't know much about that side of things. Spencer thinks they've put bits and pieces together. He thinks Hotch has most of it, being the one who had approved Spencer's leave.

It's difficult. It takes them most of the night, in halting fits and starts. When Spencer can't speak any longer, when he needs a moment to process everything, Zack talks about his fears. Even before Iraq. When Brennan and Hodgins had been kidnapped. That everyone else was finding a place in the world without him. That he is inconsequential in this world.

Spencer talks about his mother. About wanting to do as much as he can in the little time that he may be afforded. Zack talks about his fear that he is already too broken.

They're still talking as the dawn light breaks. They've moved past the worst of it, now curled on the couch together. They are apathetic towards the idea of a new day, but it's difficult to be as haunted in the morning, cradled in a lover's arms.

Going into work is barely even an idea in the backs of their heads. Eventually, Spencer drags himself off the sofa to put the coffee maker on. He calls Hotch, who grants his request for a personal day with a degree of concern. Spencer assures Hotch it's fine.

Zack does the same thing. He tells Cam a little more. She's so relieved that he's seeking help in any form to question it further.

Spencer brings back coffee. Zack kisses him in the middle of the apartment. The coffee ends up abandoned in favour of crawling into bed with each other.

It's a day and night well spent.

-x-

Spencer goes for dinner with his sponsor.

A nice restaurant, but small. He'd told Hotch he was going to the movies, the agreed upon code for 'I'm dealing with my problems.' Hotch had told him he wouldn't disturb him unless it was an emergency.

They make small talk for most of the meal. When the waitress clears away the plates and takes their dessert orders, John steers the conversation around to Zack.

"So, the young man you're seeing," John starts.

"Yes?" Spencer can tell it's a leading question.

"How is he doing?"

"Better," Spencer says. John considers his young friend. "He's doing better. We're looking for a proper therapist for him."

John breathes a sigh of relief at the news. "That's good."

"You're concerned." Spencer's a profiler, there's no point trying to get anything past him. "I'm aware; you aren't supposed to date people in the program. But Zack isn't _—_ "

"Isn't in a program, I know," John finishes. "But he's still got issues, issues which you are very aware off, and I'd be wary of whether you two are doing each other any good."

"I _—_ "

John hold up a hand. "And yet," he says. "You're both doing better for it. Spencer, I think you've made huge strides personally in the last couple of months, and Zack has helped you in them. And I'd be foolish to think you'd listen to me."

Spencer looks abashed. "He makes me happy. Happier than I've been in a long time."

"That's good."

-x-

It's not perfect. Of course it's not perfect, they both work too hard, have too many issues for it to ever be perfect. But it is good. They navigate around the time Spencer spends all over the country. Zack being called in when a body is found early in the morning.

Zack's attending a conference when Spencer is called away to New York. It's a case that doesn't leave much chance for them to talk, and when the cell phone network goes down Spencer does worry. But then they get caught up trying to save New York and whoever the Secret Service have got in the hospital.

Hotch and Morgan make the drive back, leaving the others to take the plane. They touch down in DC at about midday, and go back to the office just to dump stuff before they all go home.

Only Anderson is waiting for them when they all get out the elevator. Prentiss groans. "Don't tell me we caught another one."

"You're clear," Anderson says. There's a collective sigh of relief. "Dr. Reid, you have a visitor. A Dr. Zachary Addy? He has the proper authorisation, he's waiting in the bullpen."

JJ, Prentiss and Garcia look at each other as Reid walks into the BAU. Zack's sitting at Reid's desk, hunched and pale. Reid hurries over, dropping his satchel beside his desk and crouching to take Zack's hands.

"What's wrong?" Reid asks, rubbing circles into the back of Zack's hands. They're cold and clammy. "Zack, what's wrong?"

Zack's shuddering, taking frequent shallow breaths. "Zack, you're panicking. Breathe with me," Reid says. "Come on." He clasps Zack's hands tight, providing a reassuring presence.

The others look on in concern. There's some muttering as the girls fill Rossi in on who Zack is, but they are otherwise quiet.

"That's it," Reid says as Zack manages to get his breathing back under control. Reid waves to JJ for a glass of water. "Okay, Zack, can you tell me what's wrong?"

JJ places the glass down on Reid's desk.

"It was Gormogon," Zack says. "He approached me. At the conference. He wants me to be his new apprentice. He told me all these things, about how the Knights are perverting history, and that he's trying to make it right. He wants me to join him. And I called you but your phone was off. And I called Hodgins but he didn't pick up. And Cam's in Chicago for a couple of days."

He tightens his grip round Spencer's hands. "He sounded so convincing, Spencer. And I don't know what to do."

It takes Reid a moment to process everything Zack told him. And then a little while longer to work out what to say. The others standing in silence behind him don't help.

"We're going to figure it out Zack," Spencer says. "Trust me."

-x-

It takes a while to eke the exact details out of Zack. And to fill everyone else in on the Gormogon case. Morgan joins them after delivering Hotch home. Garcia has some stern words with him about teasing Reid.

Zack's supposed to meet Gormogon in twenty-four hours, at a residential location that means nothing to anyone. Reid and Morgan argue about using Zack as bait. Morgan points out that no one's managed to get a good lead on this guy for months, and that this could be their only chance. Reid is wary about putting Zack in harms way.

Rossi tells them all to go home, sleep on it, they can figure it out tomorrow. They are all running empty.

No one can argue with that.

-x-

Zack and Spencer lie in bed. Zack's curled into Spencer's side, relying on the warm bridge of Spencer's body for comfort. Spencer strokes a hand through the short strands of Zack's hair. They both can't help the tension in their bones.

They don't speak. They don't know what words could fill the void. Their relationship is still too new for them to make grand proclamations. But what may happen tomorrow weighs on them both.

Spencer turns into Zack, running a hand from his jaw to his neck, over the curve of the shoulder and the curl of his spine. His memory is eidetic, but that doesn't mean he'll remember every touch, every way Zack's body bends. He risks losing that memory just as anyone else does.

They are achingly tired, but Zack still leans up to kiss the exposed skin on Spencer's collar. Spencer pulls Zack closer, spreading hands against his back. He holds tight, tight enough to leave bruises the following morning. Zack presses closer, into Spencer, trying to envelop himself in the other man. Kisses up Spencer's neck, the point where his jawline ends. Brushes fingertips across Spencer's cheekbone.

Zack leans in to kiss Spencer. Spencer kisses back, languid; partially from exhaustion, but also to take his time enjoying this, the wet slick of Zack's lips. The heat of another body next to his.

Spencer's fingers dance at the edge of Zack's waistband. Zack rocks in to him, kisses him harder, breathes "Spencer," onto lips and face, a desperate plea. Spencer lets his hand slip below; Zack gasps in response.

There's no hurry. Zack's hands drift down Spencer's back, from the edge of his scapula to the joints of spine, feeling the ridges of each vertebrae. Slides boxers off Spencer when he reaches that far. Zack places kisses as he works his way back up, to the arch of Spencer's foot, the inside of his thigh. Allows himself to be pulled back up to Spencer's lips, taste the coffee in his mouth.

Spencer buries himself in Zack's shoulder. Chases the clean lemon scent of Zack's soap as he moves against him. Zack has one hand tangled in Spencer's hair, the other in between their two bodies. His eyes are closed, but flutter in pleasure.

Spencer's hands tighten on Zack's hips. He bites at Zack's clavicle when he comes, which pushes Zack over the edge, Spencer's name on his lips.

Their breathing slows. Spencer retrieves a washcloth to clean them up. Kisses Zack even as the other man slowly drops from consciousness. Falls asleep with his head against Zack's chest, listening to the thud of his heart, the gentle reassurance of life.

-x-

Zack stands on the street that he'd agreed to meet Gormogon on. The sun is fading from the sky. He's nervous. The others don't think it'll be a problem; he's expected to be nervous, considering the circumstances.

There's a pair of agents in a car up the road, one in plain clothes across the street. A sniper in one of the houses. Enough agents to put the area on lockdown if necessary. Spencer isn't here. That had been a vicious argument, but ultimately he'd fallen to the reasoning that he was too involved.

Spencer can hear what's going on though, back at Quantico, even though Zack can't hear Spencer. If Gormogon finds out they're onto him before they can take him down, it could be disastrous. Garcia's tracking his GPS via cellphone.

He checks his watch. Gormogon is late. It had been discussed as a possibility, to make Zack sweat, but they'd deemed it unlikely.

Half an hour passes. And then another. The stars begin to make their appearance. Zack still stands under a tree, waiting.

Watching from the window, Morgan begins to get antsy. This doesn't fit with their profile. He voices this thought to Emily, who is beside him.

"Maybe we got it wrong?" Emily says. She likes this situation even less than Morgan does.

They open a line to the rest of the team.

"This guy's angry because society doesn't see him. He needs control. Needs to make a power play. This doesn't fit," Rossi agrees. "Fifteen minutes, that's proving control. Ninety isn't."

"So maybe he doesn't want Zack as an apprentice," JJ suggests.

"But he'd still need someone with access to the Jeffersonian. He needs that skeleton back. He's already made a grab for it, despite the danger of doing so," Emily says.

"Yo Garcia, Reid, have you got anyone else with access to the Jeffersonian who could be a fit for Gormogon's apprentice?"

Garcia starts to type as Reid talks. "They locked down the medico-legal lab after Booth and Brennan were almost blown up. Essential personnel only. Security evaluations all round. Zack is the only one with raised flags."

"That's not true." Garcia speaks quickly. "It's not just essential personnel only. Lance Sweets was added to the system recently."

"What do we know about him?" Morgan asks.

"FBI psychologist, just graduated from the University of Toronto."

"He's only 22," Garcia adds. "Oh, god, poor kid. His parents died the week after he joined the FBI."

"Garcia do you know where he is right now? Phone records, anything?" Morgan asks.

"Searching, searching," she says. "Okay, that's odd. His cell phone says he's in Cathedral Heights."

"That's what, twenty minutes from here?"

"Seventeen in current average traffic conditions," Reid says.

"There's a house on that street. Supposedly empty, but it's got a reputation for being haunted. Set back. Basement. It's old," Garcia says.

"Perfect if you're a cannibal, basically?" Morgan says. "Thanks guys." He signals Prentiss to move.

-x-

The next morning:

"Why are we here, Booth?" Brennan asks.

"Heck if I know," Booth answers. "Top brass hasn't told me anything, just said that we were all to meet here and it was important."

The team from the Jeffersonian was currently sat in one of the conference rooms inside the J Edgar Hoover building.

"Where's Zack?" Cam asks.

"He was at some conference," Hodgins replies. "We haven't seen him in a few days. If he's back in town, he might be visiting Reid."

Cam nods her head. Booth raises his eyebrows. He and Brennan don't know about Zack and Reid. Cam's not really sure why, but she's going with it.

"What about Sweets?" Angela chimes in. "Please don't tell me that he's declared us all insane and we have to be re-evaluated again."

There's a retort on the tip of Brennan's tongue, a statement about Angela's oversimplification of the situation and how utterly wrong she is. She never makes it because the conference doors swing open, allowing a team of people in.

"Derek." Cam is on her feet, shaking the hand of the black man who appears to be in charge.

They recognise more of the team as they pile in. They know David Rossi from his books, Dr. Spencer Reid from his earlier consult with the Jeffersonian. The two women with them less so, but the blonde looks familiar.

"Who are you?" Brennan asks, rather bluntly.

"Derek Morgan, BAU," Morgan says.

"They're like the big version of Sweets," Booth whispers to her.

Morgan ignores him. "We're here because last night we made a break in the Gormogon case. It's over."

Booth jumps up. "That's our case." Brennan is moments away from interjecting.

"We received a lead and had a very narrow window in which to act. We made a judgement call that involving your team would impede our ability to break the case," Morgan responds.

He proceeds to tell them the entire sordid ordeal. Zack being propositioned by Gormogon. Their attempts to lure Gormogon into a trap. The realisation that Gormogon had targeted both Zack and Sweets, and Sweets had been the one to break. Finding Sweets and Gormogon in the basement.

Gormogon was dead. Sweets had been put in hospital by the fight to put him down. Someone would have to interview him later, find out quite what he'd done. It was unlikely he'd be prosecuted over anything, but expulsion from the FBI was looking likely.

The Jeffersonian team look surprised at every twist and turn the tale takes. When Morgan finishes, Angela asks;

"But Zack's alright, right?"

Reid allows himself a small smile. "Yes, Angela, Zack's alright. Or he will be."

-x-

The Gormogon case ends up being a wake-up call all round. The Jeffersonian team realise how close they got to losing Zack. Spencer knows it too, that if he hadn't come into Zack's life that it was entirely possible Zack would have ended up in that basement and then some. It's a sobering thought.

Zack likes it the least of anyone, and resolves to get better. Therapy, proper and rigorous, with someone they trust. It takes a while, but they get there. Zack's never needed fixing, but he admits that he is better for the help. He takes some time off, reflects on what he's doing in the medico-legal lab. If that truly is the best place for him.

(He ends up returning. It is home, and these people are his family.)

Sweets takes a sabbatical. They think he'll come back one day, and be great, but he needs some hard time to reflect on what he almost did and why.

For Spencer, the cravings don't stop, but they lessen. He has a bad couple of weeks where he sees the wrong outcome of the case everywhere; Zack a murderer, Zack murdered by Gormogon's hand, Zack committing suicide as a way out. But waking to Zack, there and alive and sane each time, stops those thoughts.

On those mornings, tangled with each other, they can dare to believe that one day, everything might be alright.

-x-

Ten months after that fateful support meeting, Zack finds himself standing on the balcony of Hodgins' mansion, looking out over the breaking dawn light.

Hodgins and Angela are away tracking a possible lead on Angela's missing husband. Hodgins had chucked the keys at Zack as he went, saying something about beautiful romantic views out of the eastern wing at this time of year.

Zack doesn't get it. He's trying to appreciate such things now; his therapist recommended it as a way to keep him grounded. (That's his problem, she says. He's fundamentally disconnected with the world and ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the people in it.)

He's having problems with that at the moment. He thinks it probably has something to do with Spencer almost getting himself blown up in Texas five days ago.

He has to commend everyone. Someone put a phone call into Cam and they all ran an excellent distraction front, keeping Zack busy and away from any televisions reporting on the incident so Zack wasn't aware of what was going on until he got the call from Spencer in hospital.

He's fine, of course. Bruises everywhere, and he's still a little sore. Prentiss came off worse. Zack had hugged her when he heard what she did for Reid. (He's going to tell his therapist this. He believes it is what one calls 'progress'.)

Zack had woken early. They'd fallen asleep on the couch last night, after catching up on Battlestar Galactica and arguing about Star Trek. Spencer had looked peaceful, lying there, so Zack had left him. He could do with the extra sleep.

"There you are."

Zack turns to see Spencer. His hair is everywhere, and could desperately use a comb, but it's cute. He's got fresh mugs of coffee in his hands.

"Thanks," Zack says as he takes a mug. He wraps his hands around it. He hadn't realised quite how chilly it was - he'd not been wearing a sweater when he'd fallen asleep, so didn't have one now. He leans into Spencer, who isn't that much warmer.

"Watching the dawn?" Spencer asks.

"I enjoy the way the atmospheric pressure shifts the colours, but I'm still not sure quite why," Zack answers. There's a difference in his thinking from months ago though; now he wants to know why.

Spencer chuckles. Inclines his head towards Zack. "No one's expecting you to suddenly become a poet, or an artist." He sips his coffee. "I'm not sure I quite understand it myself."

Zack nods. No one expects him to have all the answers anymore. He never would have thought it, but it's a relief. He drinks his coffee, lightly flavoured with vanilla. He's trying to try new things.

(Step one of this had been to get rid of all the mac and cheese boxes. Step two had involved Hodgins proposing all manner of crazy once in a lifetime type experiences, like skydiving and abseiling off of motorway bridges. Step three… well, they were still working on step three.)

"How are you this morning?" Zack asks.

Spencer grimaces. In retrospect, falling asleep on the couch was a really bad idea. "Getting better. I should be clear for duty come Monday." He rolls his shoulders loosely.

Zack nods. He drains the coffee, puts the mug on the ledge, and slips an arm round Spencer. Rests his head gingerly on Spencer's shoulder. "Have we got plans for today?"

Spencer cradles Zack's head. "I might have said we'd go to JJ's to help sort out a couple of things for the nursery. We'll hear from her if she actually needs us."

"Okay." Zack smiles. He turns his head to press a kiss to Spencer's cheek. Spencer leans down so he can kiss Zack properly.

Zack uses the arm already placed around Spencer's waist to pull him closer, chasing the coffee taste in Spencer's mouth. Spencer pulls back, takes a second to orient himself, places his mug down beside Zack's.

Zack pulls him down with hands around his neck while simultaneously pushing him back against the balcony ledge. Kisses hard, open mouthed. Leaves Spencer scrabbling; his hands eventually clutch at the back of Zack's shirt.

"Good morning," Spencer mutters with a smile on his face. Their foreheads are touching.

"I love you," Zack says in reply.

Those words are still new, though the feeling isn't. First muttered on the tarmac at an airstrip not four days ago when the BAU returned from Texas, and repeated between them since.

Spencer kisses him again. "I love you too."

Zack grins. It's difficult not to when Spencer says it. He surges forward again, sealing lips together. Hands end up fumbling at shirt buttons.

"How pissed would Hodgins be if we ended up doing it here?" Spencer gasps.

Zack steps back and considers it, with a tipped head. "Given that he told me about the supposed romantic views from this vantage point, one would expect that he should have predicted that outcome." But he considers it a little more. "However, given that you were almost blown up five days ago, I think a bed might be a good idea."

Spencer acquiesces the point. It's not like there's a shortage of beds in the mansion.

Zack steals another quick kiss before gathering the mugs. He glances out over the grounds, the sun beginning its steady journey across the sky. He can't quite understand the beauty of that world, but he can appreciate the wonder in Spencer's eyes. It's the same thing, at the end of the day.

Surely it doesn't matter how he found happiness. After all, he found it, against all the odds. And that's that.


End file.
